By Rabbi Will Berkovitz, Schocken Family CEO
The full audio of this letter can be found here.
This may surprise you, but my family is not big into animal husbandry. Let me explain. My son, Idan, worked at a rodeo in rural Oregon earlier this summer. To my knowledge, he has never been close to a cow, let alone an irritated bull, so it is not clear to me what skills he listed on his application, beyond possibly walking our dogs and even that would be an exaggeration. Yet there he was, in work boots, flannel, and baseball hat, pushing the cattle through the chutes and into the ring.
Idan returned unshowered, unshaven, and glowing as he shared stories of the people he met while on his post-high school graduation road trip: a Vietnam vet who was an accomplished bagpiper, had lost his leg, and collected antique Nordic weapons; a veteran from the Iraq war who was living out of his car and struggling with addiction; a self-described “mountain man” who slept in animal furs; and a couple who worked the rodeo, who Idan described as “kind, generous, and very well-armed.” I could tell that his understanding of who makes up the tapestry of our country was expanding.
I am reminded of Idan’s experiences as I reflect on an invitation I received to speak at the University of Washington on the importance of civil dialogue even when you may disagree.
As we approach the start of a new school year, with colleges and universities welcoming both new and returning students, there is an undercurrent of uncertainty. Will there be more protests? More division? More seemingly intractable issues which we all—whether on campuses or not—are having difficulty discussing with civility and compassion?
Idan met people from a completely different part of society and saw them, not as caricatures, but as thoughtful, multidimensional people from whom he could learn. That is what we need more of right now—to see people as complex and multifaceted, and to stay open to listening, learning, and exchanging ideas with civility rooted in a desire to understand and connect more deeply.
Sadly, too many of us are doing the opposite. We peer at each other across the widening divide in this country with suspicion and fear. The walls separating us are growing higher and thicker and it is becoming harder to do the difficult and critical work of rebuilding civil society.
It feels especially evident as we look at college campuses and the ongoing challenges of sharing a diversity of perspectives. Last year, Inside Higher Ed reported that a series of surveys showed students felt it was acceptable to “deny a platform to speakers they find objectionable.” How are young people going to learn the skills they need to engage productively with people who hold differing views if those views are silenced? Our countries’ diversity of perspectives should be celebrated, not silenced. We perfect our union by understanding that life is not a zero-sum game.
Currently, we are not seeing each other as fellow citizens and community members working toward the common good together. I continually hear from people in our community about the worry and anxiety they feel. I feel it too.
But what has been striking is that it crosses the political spectrum. Everyone wants to get off this path, but nobody seems to know how.
As the election draws closer, the divisive rhetoric will only increase—rhetoric that further dehumanizes our neighbors, relatives, and fellow citizens. It is profoundly destructive for society, our community, and our families—let alone our emotional well-being. Whether it is stoking fear with offensive language about immigrants in the United States or using the word Zionist as an “acceptable” slur, the impact is to further divide into “us” and “them” tribes.
When we feel anxious, under threat, or afraid, our curiosity diminishes. We assess people as friends or foes, and it becomes harder to find the willingness and grace needed to bridge the chasm of mistrust. But now more than ever, we need the virtues of openness and generosity of spirit.
Our greatest threat won’t come from beyond our borders, it will come from within. And when I say within, I don’t just mean the obvious divisions within our country or communities or on our college campuses. I mean the hardening of our own hearts. The building of our own walls. The justifying of our own willful blindness towards anyone who thinks differently, looks different, or has a different lifestyle from our own. We can have profound disagreements and still develop deep relationships.
I recognize I have written versions of this before, but I feel like I am standing on the deck of the Titanic and shouting, “Iceberg!” We must increase our civil discourse before it is too late. I can see no other path that will preserve our democracy. There are times when I feel that JFS is a calmer harbor in our larger societal storm. At JFS, we strive to hear and understand each other. We don’t always agree but there is an expectation of civility, curiosity, and generosity of spirit…an expectation that we are working toward a common goal.
That is what I see missing in our national discourse, both within and outside of college campuses today. Many of us do not feel we are in common cause and that is partially because we do not have opportunities and experiences to meet and talk with people with different views and perspectives.
If we can learn to approach each other with more curiosity and less certainty, it will be possible to expand the circle of compromise and find the areas of mutual concern. We need to do more to challenge our assumptions and broaden our own perspectives. We need to be willing to change our opinions. That was one of the things that impressed me so much about my son’s decision to consciously choose to step out of his known world and into an unknown one…to engage with people in their worlds, not his.
Many years ago, I read “Common Fire: Leading Lives of Commitment in a Complex World” by Sharon Daloz Parks. In it, she interviews people to understand what experiences led them to dedicate their lives to the common good. She describes the importance of trust, courage, and imagination, and the need to build deeper connections.
She notes a fascinating commonality among them. All the people she interviewed were raised in homes with metaphorically solid walls. They knew where they came from, but they also had doors and windows that were open, through which they could encounter the broader world and people with perspectives and lives quite different from their own. This is what made me happy when hearing about Idan’s experiences and is what I want to challenge us all to do more of.
Reflecting on my son’s travels, and on the talk I am set to give to college students, I became aware that I have increasingly been building walls and losing some compassion and curiosity. I need to change that. I am trying to focus more on talking with people who hold perspectives different than my own on some contentious topics. I am striving to challenge my assumptions, listen to understand, and pause before responding. This is in no way easy for me. In fact, at times, I am particularly bad at it.
We all have a part to play in healing what is currently broken in our society. The only way to rebuild our communities is through focusing on our shared humanity and hope for the future. I believe to my core that building and strengthening our relationships is more important now than ever.
Looking at the photos of Idan sitting on a dusty fence at sunset with the other people working the rodeo, I am convinced these types of experiences, connections, and conversations are the building blocks for a more united and healthier society. We all need to take the risk, throw open our metaphorical doors and windows, and engage in the larger world beyond our immediate community. This is not just a path to personal growth, but a critical step toward bridging the divides that threaten our collective well-being and our democracy.
And this is what I want to impart to the college students who I am grateful to have the chance to address when they return to school this year. We must be open to learning and practicing how to open our hearts and minds to those with different perspectives on the world and strengthen our civic dialogue muscles.
By challenging each other to actively connect with those who seem different from us, we might begin to rebuild the trust, courage, and imagination needed to see our common humanity and create a shared future.
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